One of the largest collections of Scottish Ballads & Scots Folk Songs, lyrics, celtic music and downloads available on the internet.
Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Irish' Music
Dear Little
Shamrock
It was once
said to me, and has
been voiced by
many - that the only
difference between the
Scots and the Irish
is that the Scots stopped
fighting.

My response to my Irish
friends is that we
stopped fighting for
good reason.
After putting OUR king
on THEIR throne, WE
thought WE had won !

Sadly the Scots have now
spent four centuries
In the words
of Burns, as he
wrote from the heart.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie.

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power,
Chains and slaverie.

Wha would be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a Slave?
Let him turn and flie:

Wha for Scotland's king and law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',
Let him follow me.

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your Sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud Usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us Do - or Die!!!

Choose your destiny.

There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle
'Twas St Patrick himself sure that set it
And the sun on his labour with pleasure did smile
And with dew from his eye often wet it
It shines thro' the bog, the brake and the mire-land
And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland

Chorus:
The dear little shamrock, the sweet little shamrock
The dear little, sweet shamrock of Ireland

That dear little plant still grows in our land
Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin
Whose smiles can bewitch and whose eyes can
command
In each climate they ever appear in
For they shine through the bog, through the brake,
through the mire-land
Just like their own dear little shamrock

That dear little shamrock that srings from our soil
When its three little leaves are extended
Denotes from the stalk we together should toil
And ourselves by ourselves be befriended
And still through the bog, through the brake, through
the mire-land
From one shoot should branch, like the shamrock of
Ireland